


The Radically Subversive Act of Loving You

by fortunata13



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/F, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunata13/pseuds/fortunata13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Tears AU – This is the story of a passionate love affair between the Mother Confessor of the Midlands and the Mord’Sith Cara Mason. Originally published on lots-femslash 12/09/2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Radically Subversive Act of Loving You

“Will you take a lover when I’m gone, Mother Confessor?”  
   
Kahlan, who knelt on the edge of the bed, flinched a little at the unexpected question. They made love all morning but it wasn’t enough to make up for what was to come.

“Is that what you want me to do?” Her tone revealed nothing as she continued to lace up Cara’s leathers.

Cara’s response came quicker than expected. “I suppose it isn’t my place to have an opinion on the matter. It is the Lord Rahl whom you chose as your mate.” She looked back at her over her shoulder only to find herself transfixed by the sight of Kahlan’s naked body.

Kahlan knew that look, she knew it well, and it invariably drove her mad with desire. She took one of Cara’s hands and rested it on her own breast.

 “You’re allowed to do more than look, Cara,” She said it in that low raspy tone Cara found impossible to resist.

The tension that had been there only moments ago dissolved as Cara set about giving her the type of pleasure the makes one scream.

This thing between them had been going on for months. It wasn’t something that they planned, or that either of them had intended to allow to go on for this long. In hind sight, it had been inevitable. At the Pillars of Creation, when Kahlan was in the Con Dar, it wasn’t just Richard who proved to be immune to confession. Cara loved her just as much as Richard did. The Seeker and the Wizard knew it as well but there was no need to talk about it. It didn’t change anything. Except it did change things and, most notably, it changed Kahlan.

When Richard left for D’Hara, having Cara in Aydindril was of great comfort to Kahlan. They had reached a place of mutual respect and friendship even before closing the rift. Kahlan quite enjoyed Cara’s antics: the perverse pleasure she derived from terrorizing the guards, the way she glowered at anyone who dared get too close to the Mother Confessor, and even her sexual escapades. It brought levity to her day. There was also the knowledge that Cara loved her. She liked it. She liked that Cara was in love with her. It made her feel strong and more alive somehow.

It wasn’t until Cara, who usually disposed of her lovers after taking her pleasure from them for a single night, began to keep company with an attractive brunette who worked at one of the shops outside the palace, that things became complicated.  Kahlan saw them together twice from her balcony and, although it surprised her a bit, she thought nothing of it. On the third occasion, however, she saw something that was totally and completely unacceptable. As she walked through the garden, she noticed Cara leaning casually against a pillar talking to the woman in question. That was perfectly fine, until she took a closer look and she saw it. She saw it and it positively infuriated her. Cara had a smile on her face. A smile that was dangerously close to one of the many smiles that Kahlan felt was exclusively reserved for her. It wasn’t exactly one of Kahlan’s personal Cara smiles but it was sufficiently similar to trigger a homicidal impulse that until that moment, she hadn’t known she possessed. Feeling as if her very life depended upon putting a stop to this spectacle, she proceeded to, well, make a spectacle of herself by marching up to them and, without even acknowledging the other woman, unceremoniously dragging Cara away.

 “Kahlan, what is it? What’s wrong?” she asked placing a protective hand on Kahlan’s lower back.

That was a very good question for which she was going to have to come up with, what she hoped would be a very good answer.

 “A…noise.” She replied.

Cara furled her brow for a long moment then echoed her response, “A noise?”  
Kahlan nodded.

 “And hearing a noise in broad daylight, while standing a few short paces from the palace gates, gave you pause for concern?”

Kahlan nodded again.  
   
 “You do know that there is an entire city filled with noisy people outside those gates?” Cara was beginning to question Kahlan’s sanity.

 “It was a very loud noise,” she offered. “Didn’t you hear it? A piercing, loud noise.”

As they continued walking toward Kahlan’s chambers, Cara searched for a logical explanation. “Could it be a Confessor’s noise?” Cara asked, as if she had uncovered something positively huge. The Mother Confessor tilted her head and furled her brow, suspecting that perhaps she had dozed off during some segment of her confessor’s training –one on which the Mord’Sith had been briefed. “Kahlan, think about it, maybe it is similar to a Confessor’s dream, except it’s a noise,” Cara explained, “a noise that only a Confessor can hear.”

Kahlan thought it was the most preposterous thing she’d ever heard in her entire life but, given the circumstances, it was brilliant. “Yes,” she asserted in that Mother Confessor way that left no room for doubt. “I’ll inquire as to its meaning tomorrow.” She added for good measure. And with that, the entire ordeal was put to rest.

Cara sat on the edge of Kahlan’s bed the entire night, firmly gripping her agiels, guarding her against a noise that only Kahlan herself could hear. Cara wasn’t exactly sure how she would go about killing a noise, especially one she could not hear, but if this noise intended to harm Kahlan, she would most certainly find a way.

Unfortunately, it was only a temporary reprieve. It was not unusual for Cara to entertain in her quarters, and Kahlan, who was well aware of it, never expressed any displeasure with it. She even preferred it to having Cara out at all hours, gallivanting about in some of the seedier establishments at the edge of the city limits.

However, on this particular evening she hadn’t expected it. Given that it was still early and that she and Cara had shared their evening meal together less than a candle mark ago, she entered Cara’s room without bothering to knock. “Car...” she trailed off at the sight of that same damnable woman lowering her head between Cara’s thighs, one of her hand’s tracing circles on Cara’s nipple.

Before the woman’s mouth could reach its desired destination, Kahlan, who stood behind her, reached around and wrapped her hand around the woman’s throat. She gasped at the sensation, and Cara’s torso rose off the mattress as if propelled by powerful magic. “Get out. Now.” Kahlan ordered. Keeping a hand on the woman’s throat, she tossed her dress at her with the other hand, then, unceremoniously shoved her out the door.

 “Kahlan, have you gone mad?” Cara asked, still naked on the bed, and more than a little bemused.

Kahlan took a moment to find the right words to express her feelings. “I can’t have this, Cara, not with her. Not after I saw the way you smiled at her.” She reached up and caressed her cheek with the back of her hand, “I won’t allow it. You have to understand, Cara, some things are mine, and I won’t give them up.” She traced Cara’s lips with her fingertip. “That smile is mine.”

Cara felt as if she had fallen into some alternate reality but, with the way Kahlan was looking at her and with the things she was saying, Cara decided this was a most auspicious reality. She placed her hand on the nape of Kahlan’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

Kahlan’s lips parted, giving her access. Feeling Kahlan’s tongue intertwined with her own did away with any lingering doubts as to this wondrous new world. It was on that night that Kahlan and Cara became lovers.

Neither of them ever felt inclined to discuss it, nor question it. It was just how things were now, and they made no secret of it. The Mord’Sith shared the Mother Confessor’s bed and, by the sounds that emanated from the Confessor’s chambers at all hours of the day and night, it was a favorable arrangement for both parties.

 “Cara, yes, just like that, don’t stop, please.” Her hips rocked to the rhythm of Cara’s tongue lapping at her center.

There were other things of which they made no mention of as well.

 “Oh Spirits, yes!” the Confessor bellowed as she came undone in the Mord’Sith’s mouth.

One such topic that wasn’t discussed was the small matter of Kahlan’s impending nuptials to the Seeker of Truth. Their love was the stuff of legends and this wedding was to be the most celebrated event in the history of the Midlands.

 “Kahlan, I need you inside me…three fingers…fuck me Kahlan, please.” Cara pleaded, panting with every thrust of the Confessors hand where it was needed most.

This is how life in the Confessor’s Palace unfolded on a daily basis now. All of the staff members went about their days with the screams, moans, whimpers, and grunts that were the byproduct of the two women’s love making, as some sort of obscene background music.  The Mother Confessor was the picture of contentment and more radiant than ever.

The male staff members were equal parts titillate and infuriated. While they consistently experienced an increased tightness in their trousers at the mental image of the two women pleasuring each other, there was something deeply offensive about such beautiful women daring to do so for their own pleasure rather than for a man’s.

For the female staff members it brought about some inner conflict. It was inspiring to witness the Mother Confessor forego archaic conventions but it also brought up fear of being shamed for admitting that they were creatures of desires just as much as men, if not more so.

However, this arrangement between them could only go on for so long. Richard and Kahlan’s wedding was looming over them and, although they hadn’t acknowledged its proximity, it was putting a great deal of strain on their relationship.

It was Cara who on a lazy afternoon, as they lingered in postcoital bliss, decided to bridge the subject. “How is this going to work once Richard gets here, Kahlan?”

Shifting her body so that they were facing each other, Kahlan kissed her lightly on the lips and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to give you up. What choice do I have?”

 “And what happens to me?” Cara asked, her voice breaking a bit as she said it.  
 “You’ll leave me, of course. You’ll probably return to D’Hara or wherever Richard needs you and you’ll find someone else or many someone elses.” She pulled Cara closer, as if physical proximity could delay the evergrowing abyss between them. “And you’ll give away everything that’s mine.”

 “Oh, so aside from my smiles, there are other things that are yours?”

 “Yes, of course,” Kahlan said without the slightest hesitation. “I can tell you what they are if you’d like, but it’s quite a long list so you might need to parchment and a quill to write them all down.”

Cara chuckled a bit. “No, I have a very good memory. I think I can manage.”  
Kahlan paused, almost as if taking mental inventory. “Let’s see. There’s the way your hair falls over your eyes, that’s mine. The small of your back,” she said, reaching around so that she could run her fingers down the length of her spine, “deliciously mine. Your fingers, so long and strong, they belong to me. And your talented tongue, well, unquestionably mine.” Cara took that as a cue to pull her in for a deep kiss.

“This list is far longer than I expected. Perhaps what isn’t yours would have been a better question,” she said. It was meant to be humorous but, by the look on Kahlan’s face, it had the opposite effect.

 “No, Cara, that list is far longer. For example, the right to ask you to remain faithful to me after I marry Richard, isn’t mine –even if the thought of anyone else’s hands on you drives me mad. Nor is the certainty that for the rest of my days, I will wake up in your arms, mine. The same is true of walking hand in hand with you through the streets of Aydindril, my city, without being met with reproach for choosing the company of a woman instead of a man who could assist me in becoming a breeding mare of baby Confessors. Even worse is being denied the privilege of raising my children with you, of having you be their mother just as much as I will be.” By that last remark, tears were running down her cheeks. “The list goes on. Should I continue?”

Cara wrapped her arms around her. “I’m sorry, Kahlan. I’ve been thinking only of myself. Please, let’s rest now.” Cara didn’t carry the burden of an entire nation nor the responsibility of the continuation of a race. Yet she wasn’t free either, for she would always be at the property of some Lord Rahl to do with as he pleased.

Aside from her complicated personal life, being the Mother Confessor of the Midlands also meant that some days were impossibly long and annoying. This was one such day but luckily she had Cara standing at the back of the hall and that was enough to get her through it.

As had become their habit, on difficult days like this one, they’d steal into Kahlan’s office and make love on her desk. Cara knew exactly what the Mother Confessor enjoyed on such occasions, and given that they had forgone discretion months ago, members of the counsel and of the staff had come to expect it. Kahlan and Cara never bothered to lock the door.

It wasn’t long before the top of Kahlan’s dress was sufficiently unlaced so that she could tug and pinch at her own nipples and her skirt hiked above her waist. Cara, humming with pleasure as she lapped at Kahlan’s center, was the first to look up and see Richard standing in the doorway. He was two weeks early.

Richard walked out without saying a word. It took Kahlan a moment to fully absorb what was happening and when she did, she shoved Cara off her hard. So hard that she landed on the floor but not before hitting the side of her head against a credenza, blood trickling down the side of her face.

Kahlan caught up with him as he entered the stable. “Richard, please wait.” She took hold of his forearm, and he turned to face her, tears streaking his cheeks.  
 “How could you, Kahlan? And with Cara of all people. Do you hate me that much?”  
 “Richard, no, of course I don’t hate you. How can you think such a thing?”  She was consumed with guilt, but when she looked in his eyes, she saw that what he wanted her to feel was shame; that she could not manage.  
 “Is it that you’re in love with her? Is that it?” He paced back and forth as if there was nowhere for him to go, regardless of what direction he chose.

 “Richard, it was a mistake.” A beautiful mistake, she thought to herself. “It’s been difficult for me. After so much time away, being back in Aydindril, I felt like a stranger in my own home.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me? Why would you turn to her instead? Why, Kahlan?” He was under the misguided assumption that knowing why would somehow ease the pain.

 “I don’t know why but I do know that we can get through this Richard. If you forgive me, we can get through this,” she said, her hand resting on his cheek. “You are the one who showed me that people can change, that we can learn from our mistakes.”

 “I want to, Kahlan. Spirits, I love you so much. I want to forgive you. I want to believe that you love me.” With every passing moment Richard was drifting dangerously close to forgiving the unforgivable.

 “Then do it. I know it will take time to earn back your trust but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Start by getting Cara out of our lives,” he said, crossing his arms in front of him.

Kahlan felt as if her heart stopped beating. “She has nowhere to go,” Kahlan pleaded. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time we sent her away?” She was willing to do almost anything to convince Richard to forgive her but not that, not to abandon Cara.

Richard was astonished that she would even suggest having Cara stay at the palace a moment longer. “So you expect me to act as if nothing happened? She seduced the woman I love, Kahlan. I believed in her when no one else did and this is how she repaid me.”  
   
 “She didn’t seduce me, Richard. I sought her out. She’s in love with me; off course she would be unable to refuse me.” After that admission, she found it impossible to look him in the eyes.

It took him a moment to reconcile her words with the person he knew her to be. “Kahlan, what are you saying?” The Kahlan he knew, his Kahlan, was incapable of such a thing. “On second thought, no, don’t bother. I’m going to stay at an inn. We’ll talk tomorrow.” With that he was gone.

Kahlan rushed back to the palace. She’d been gone for almost five candle marks; Cara must have been frantic. After checking both her office and her personal quarters, she finally found Cara, in full Mord’Sith armor, sitting at the foot of her own bed.  
 

“Cara, you’re here.” Kahlan said, flying into her arms.

 “What happened with Richard? Are you all right?” Cara asked, as she pulled away from Kahlan’s embrace.

 “Your face, what happened?” Kahlan reached up to touch the nasty cut and accompanying bruise. Cara flinched at the attempted contact.

 “It’s nothing. Richard, is he…” she trailed off, not knowing exactly what she intended to ask.

Kahlan tucked a lock of hair behind Cara’s ear so that she could take a proper look at the wound. “He left. He’s going to spend the night at an inn. Other than that, I don’t know, Cara. He’s hurt, he’s angry but I don’t know what will happen next.” She reached behind Cara’s head an unbuckled the neck piece as well as the rest of her armor. Having worn it carried the implication that Cara was leaving. Removing it was Kahlan’s emphatic way of telling her she would not allow it, at least not yet. Cara, understanding the meaning, allowed it without protest. They lay back on Cara’s bed, their clothes still on, and held each other in silence. Sleep would not come for either of them.

The following morning, the Mother Confessor walked out of Cara’s room but not before kissing her on the temple and speaking these words: “Cara, I’m sorry I hurt Richard and I’ll probably never forgive myself, but I’m not sorry for this, for us.” Cara simply nodded and watched as Kahlan walked out, closing the door behind her.

Everything happened very quickly from that moment on. It was almost as if all of life took on a kind of urgency that demanded perpetual movement. Richard, having forgiven Kahlan, was the driving force behind it. With only six weeks until the ceremony, he took up residence at the palace and proved to be, without a doubt, the most hands-on groom any bride could have imagined.

His generosity of spirit did not so easily extend to Cara, who was relegated to overseeing the training of incoming members of the Home Guard; an assignment that kept her away from the Confessor’s Palace from dawn till dusk. While she and the Confessor crossed paths from time to time, it was never under circumstances that allowed for more than a laconic exchange. It was on one such occasion that she realized it was she who caused the injury to Cara’s head on that night. Cara, having been conspicuously absent from the ceremony, Kahlan didn’t have an opportunity to apologize.  
   
On the wedding night, Richard proved to be a considerate lover –compensating for his lack of skill with what could most aptly be described as a good sexual work ethic. Having taken her pleasure moments before him, Kahlan watched as her husband drifted into sound sleep immediately after his release. It was then that, without making a sound, she slid out of their marital bed and, wearing only her shift, left the room.

Her eyes welling up with tears and laboring to breathe, it was in that instant that, for the first time in her life, she experienced shame. She had, on her wedding night, become a liar and a thief: A liar because while it had been Richard in her bed, it was someone else’s touch in her mind and heart that brought her to release; a thief because she had given him things that were not hers to give, things that were Cara’s.

She ran the distance to Cara’s quarters and pounded on the door. Upon gaining access, Kahlan had but one request. “Hold me. Please.” Without any further words between them, Cara did what was asked of her. Curled up in bed with her Mord’Sith, the Mother Confessor cried until her eyes could no longer produce tears. Shortly before dawn, Cara kissed each of Kahlan’s eyelids and watched as she walked out the door.

Two days later, standing on her balcony, Kahlan was surprised to see Cara and Richard mounting their respective horses and, at full gallop, disappear through the city gates. While she had hoped they had gone off together in an effort to settle matters between them, an uncomfortable sensation at the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. It was late in the evening that Richard returned. Alone.

“Richard, where’s Cara?” Kahlan asked, her heart pounding harder than she had experience even in the heat of battle.

“First of all, hello.” Richard smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “I thought about what you said, and you were right. It would be wrong of me to send Cara away knowing that she has nowhere to go.” Kahlan pressed her hand to her chest and let out a sigh of relief. Alas, her respite proved to be short lived. “I’ve given her a long term assignment that provides her with a home among her sister while also allowing us to move on with our lives. There’s no need for us to have a constant reminder of a past mistake.”  
     
“Richard, what did you do? Where did you send her?” Feeling her knees go weak, she held on to the corner of her desk to steady herself.

 “Kahlan, I won’t talk about this anymore," he informed her, in an unmistakably marital tone of voice. “We are married now and I’ve decided that this is what’s best for us.”

“You’ve decided for us,” she replied, not as a question but as a statement of fact. It was then that Kahlan Amnell, Mother Confessor of the Midlands, fully understood what it was to be a wife.

A few short weeks into the marriage, Kahlan was afflicted with an inexplicable malaise to the point of being confined to her bed for days at a time. The situation limited her ability to perform her duties to such an extent that, on various occasions, her sister, Denee, had to be called upon to assist with her responsibilities.

The most respected healers in Aydindril examined her but none could find a cause of her condition, nor a way to mitigate her symptoms. Richard, who divided his time between Aydindril and D’Hara, was at his wits end to such an extent that, as a last resort, he ordered the First Wizard to make the voyage to Aydindril. Perhaps it was a spell, or some sort of curse, or maybe a potion that was causing her illness.

When Zedd arrived he was quickly ushered up to her chambers. The sight of her caused a violent chill to run up his spine. The Mother Confessor had made herself small by curling her body up into a tiny ball, her face drawn, skin paler than usual, and dark circles under her eyes. “Zedd,” she said in a faint voice that sounded as if it emanated from a distant land, “it’s good to see you.” she added with a hint of a smile on her colorless lips.

 “Kahlan, my child, what’s happened to you?” He rushed to her bedside and held her hand, which felt cold to the touch.

 “I’m just tired, that’s all. I hate having worried everyone.” Kahlan’s usually confident demeanor had been reduced to someone the Wizard did not recognize. He proceeded to scan her body for traces of magic, but aside from the expected Confessor’s magic, he found nothing. Determining by the look on his face that no unnatural forces were at play, she gave his hand a weak squeeze. “See, I told you so. All I need is a bit of rest.”

It was as she spoke that Zedd, through the wisdom that comes with age and experience, saw something in her eyes that revealed the truth of her condition. “My child,” he said, resting his hand on her cheek, “you are suffering from a cardiac condition. It isn’t an ailment for which there are any known cures nor has anyone ever truly healed from it,” he leaned down and kissed her forehead before adding, “but in time, you’ll learn to live with it.”

 “Thank you for your kindness, Zedd.” The Wizard, in the most discreet possible way, had informed her she was suffering from a broken heart. Richard, being the Seeker of Truth had known it all along but refused to accept it.

As the months past, Kahlan began to regain her strength but the melancholy that had been one of the symptoms of her condition never left her. She served her people and performed her duties as a wife as was expected of her. On occasions she even managed to attend some formal functions with Richard, who loved nothing more than retelling tales of their past adventures to a captive audience. For her part, Kahlan nodded and smiled at all the right places, waiting for the festivities to end.

It wasn’t until one evening, shortly after their first wedding anniversary, that Kahlan, for no particular reason, thought of Roga, the healer they’d met during their quest whose commitment to peace was so unwavering that she was willing to lay down her life for it; and of her sister, who took her own son’s life rather than allowing him to be used as a pawn; and of her dressmaker even, who raised five children alone rather than tolerate her husband’s cruelty. These women, and so many more with whom she had crossed paths through the years, had the courage to live life on their own terms at any cost. Yet she, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, was living a coward’s life, ruled by the expectations and demands of others. The shame she’d been feeling for months was intensified by the newfound experience of self-loathing.  
   
It was while contemplating their courage in contrast to her own disgrace, that she experienced a moment of clarity which presented itself in the form of a single question: What would a king do? She looked over at Richard, who sat beside her in the drawing room going over some documents, and searched her heart for answers, for truth. It was that tiny voice that is so often ignored, which is the voice of the heart, that provided her with an answer. And when it did, the entire world presented itself to her, revealing all that hid behind a cloak of propriety, perceived morality, and self-imposed limitations. A king, unhindered by such concerns, would serve his people, while never neglecting his responsibilities to himself. What evil force was it then that coerced a queen to break her own heart for the sake of those same arbitrary concepts?

 “Richards, you asked me a question about Cara months ago that I did not answer.” At the mention of the name, his head snapped up to look at her. “I’m prepared to give you an answer if you are prepared to hear it.”

He already knew the answer but had hoped that this day would never come. “She’s at the Northern Temple. Go to her if that’s what you want. From this moment on you are both free to do as you please.”  
   
Kahlan could not recall at what point in her life she’d relinquished that right, but she would take great care to never do so again. “I acted like a coward and I will regret hurting you for the rest of my days.”

 “Then don’t,” he said, “we can build a good life together, an honorable life not an abomination like what you’ll have with her.” He recognized the cruelty in his words but at that moment he wanted her to hurt as much as he was hurting.

 “Dishonor and shame were not the outcome of loving her, Richard. Entering into a marriage contract that I knew I could not abide by is what filled me with sorrow.” She paused in an effort to find the words to convey the despair that for months left her curled in her bed wondering how to go on. “Every night I begged the Creator to send me to the Underworld so that I would not have to endure another moment without her.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I hope you understand that I want nothing more to do with either of you.”

 “You’re a good man, Richard, but I know that to ask for forgiveness is asking too much.” With that, she walked out of the palace and straight to the stables, “Please, saddle the strongest steed for me.” Given the late hour, the stable hand hesitated for a moment. “Now!” Without further delay, he sprung into action while Kahlan tossed random supplies into her pack.

It was two full days before she arrived at the Mord’Sith temple. She reflected for a moment on the irony that it was by virtue of being the Lord Rahl’s wife that she, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, could demand access to the temple and live to tell about it. Before she had a chance to knock, a quad in full armor opened the door, agiels in hand. All it took was the removal of her hood, for all four of them to drop to one knee, fists to their chest. “Cara, I must see her now.”

As if by powerful magic, Cara appeared at the door, toppling over two Mord’Sith as she made her way to the Mother Confessor. “Kahl –Mother Confessor,” she corrected herself. “Are you alright? Is it Richards, is he…”

“He’s fine, but we have to go, now.” Kahlan said.

“Prepare two fresh horses immediately,” she ordered, looking over at the Mord’ Siths still standing by the door.

“No,” Kahlan, said to them, “One horse will do.”

Cara knew that forgoing the second horse could only mean one thing, Kahlan needed to feel her arms around her. With efficiency that only Mord’Sith were capable of, a horse was brought to them in half the time that it would have taken mere mortals to accomplish the same task. Cara gave the women a quick nod indicating that they were to go back inside.

Without inquiring as to their destination, Cara took her place behind Kahlan on the saddle, pressing there bodies together so tightly that to an onlooker it would have been impossible to discern the presence of a second rider. Resting her head on the space where Kahlan’s neck met her shoulder, she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Kahlan’s hair. She’d missed her. Even after multiple attempts at having her sisters beat it out of her, the memory of her time with Kahlan informed all aspects of her life.

After traveling close to twenty leagues, Kahlan brought the animal to an abrupt halt and, with one swift motion, was on her feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Cara asked, as she did the same.

Kahlan turned to look her in the eyes. “I’m taking you home, Cara.” She said. “I can’t, I can’t live my life without you. But only if it’s what you want as well.” It hadn’t occurred to her until moments earlier that although for her it stayed the same, for Cara, after over a year of being back with her sisters, of being Mord’Sith in every way, it might have changed.

“When Richard sent me away without allowing me to say good bye to you, I had one regret. I swore if I ever had the opportunity I would not waste it.” Cara said, taking a step forward to close the space between them, she cupped Kahlan’s cheeks with her hands and kissed her then said, “I love you, Kahlan.”

Throughout their affair, neither of them had ever dared to speak those words. They knew it would end, and holding back those words, they’d both hoped, would ease the inevitable pain of separation. It had, instead, added regret to their heartache.

“And I love you, Cara, with everything that I am. I was a coward then, and it destroyed me but I’m not a coward anymore,” she said. “All of those things that I told you weren’t mine, I’ve taken back. I’m free to love whom I choose, and I choose you.”


End file.
